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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23398843">Herakles Potter and the Philosopher's Stone</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_And_Thestral/pseuds/Phoenix_And_Thestral'>Phoenix_And_Thestral</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Herakles Potter [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Female Harry Potter, Intelligent Harry Potter, Magical Theory, Mild Dumbledore Bashing, Oblivious Albus Dumbledore, Pureblood Politics (Harry Potter), Severus Snape is So Done, Slytherin Harry Potter, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Snape Is Not Bad But Still a Git, mild james potter bashing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 05:43:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,712</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23398843</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_And_Thestral/pseuds/Phoenix_And_Thestral</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hera made up her mind then and there. "I'm going. To this Hogwarts place. But only so I can figure out what happened to my mother. I will unravel who Dumbledore really is, and then I will show everyone. I will take their world apart and rebuild it brick by brick if that's what it takes. But somehow, someway, I'll make sure my mother didn't die in vain."</p><p>Petunia looked at her niece like she had never seen the girl before. And maybe she hadn't. In that moment she sounded so very Lily. Lily before she changed. That fiery determination and stubborn will to make everything right.</p><p>But Hera wasn't exactly like her mother. She was cunning and patient. She knew how to work the people around her and to see their true intentions.</p><p>She was Lily, but just different enough that maybe... Maybe this time, things would go the way they were supposed to.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy &amp; Harry Potter, Harry Potter &amp; Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall &amp; Harry Potter, Petunia Evans Dursley &amp; Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Herakles Potter [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683148</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>285</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Baby on the Doorstep</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Petunia Dursley liked to think she had the life she always wanted. Her husband, Vernon, had a nice, steady job at a drill company. They had a neat and flawless house at Number Four, Privet Drive, which looked exactly like every other house on the street save for the exact arrangement of the front garden. And, of course, she had her precious little son Dudley.</p><p> </p><p>Yes. A nice, normal life. Just like she always dreamed of. Nothing strange or inexplicable about it. No hint that she had anything to do with... <em> Them </em>.</p><p> </p><p>But deep in her mind, she couldn't just forget about her little sister. Lily was a stain on Petunia's elegant existence, and even if she covered it from everyone <em> she </em> knew it was there.</p><p> </p><p>Things had been different, once. When they were very young she had actually been quite close to her sister. They were each other's confidant and best friend, sharing secrets and giggles while hiding under blankets in their room.</p><p> </p><p>But then that <em> boy </em> showed up. Severus Snape. He had ugly, too big clothes and unkempt greasy hair. He started to watch them. Petunia noticed him first. The boy followed Lily around everywhere, a sick look of hunger on his face. She didn't even know a nine-year-old could look like that.</p><p> </p><p>Around the same time, the <em> Freakishness </em> started. Petunia watched helplessly as her little sister started to relish in doing unnatural things. It wasn't so bad at first. Lily made flowers dance in her hand and her nails change color without any hint of polish.</p><p> </p><p>It was scary for Petunia. Her sister seemed entrenched in her abilities. But then the Snape boy finally approached them. He announced that Lily was a witch, and he was a wizard. And that Petunia was nothing.</p><p> </p><p>That was when she lost her little sister. Lily snuck out to see Snape, to listen to his stories of magic and wonder. She got lost in that new world, one which Petunia couldn't reach. Lily changed. She no longer talked to her older sister or giggled at her jokes. No, she went to Snape.</p><p> </p><p>And the boy looked so <em> triumphant </em> at that. He clearly saw Lily as some sort of prize he had won. Petunia tried to talk to Lily, to share her distrust of the creepy kid, but that only made Lily mad.</p><p> </p><p>Her words still stung Petunia's ears.</p><p> </p><p>'<em> You don't understand!' </em> She had snapped. ' <em> You're just jealous and want to keep me away from my only friend! Sev and I will be going off to school together, and I'm going to learn all kinds of spells. There are more like us out there!' </em></p><p> </p><p>'Us.' Lily had said 'us' and Petunia's heart broke. Her sweet little sister, with fiery red hair and emerald green eyes, saw herself as part of a different world. One with creepy boys and unnatural ways. A world that had a school full of freaks like Snape.</p><p> </p><p>A world that did not include Petunia.</p><p> </p><p>And that was it. Her little sister had been lost to magic. She went off to freak school. She sent Petunia letters, at first. They came tied to an <em> owl </em> of all things. She read them all but never replied.</p><p> </p><p>'<em> Dear Petunia,' </em>The first one had started.</p><p> </p><p>'<em> Hogwarts is wonderful! I got sorted into Gryffindor. There are four houses; Gryffindor (honor and bravery), Ravenclaw (intellect and knowledge), Hufflepuff (loyalty and hard work), and Slytherin (cunning and ambition). </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Sev is in Slytherin. It's too bad we are different houses, but I like Gryffindor. I share a dorm with some other girls in first year. I think Alice and I will be very good friends. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The only problem is the boys in my house. Four of them are already close. James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. Remus isn't so bad, actually. He’s really smart. But Potter and Black are awful. They are horrible bullies. We've only been here a week and they already have detention! Professor McGonagall gave it to them because they hexed the Slytherins to get painful blisters every time they say 'mudblood' (it's a slur for people with muggle parents, like me). The magic is actually quite impressive, and mudblood really is an awful term, but this is far too mean. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Anyways, I have to get back to writing an essay on the uses of frog spawn in potions for Professor Slughorn.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Hope you are well, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Lily Evans' </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The letter had made Petunia sick. And it only got worse from there. Lily casually wrote about students ending up in the hospital wing because of magic gone wrong or creature attacks, of how awful Potter was, and the insane things she was learning. In third year, Lily had gotten an acidic potion on her after Potter tried to prank Snape and ended up in the infirmary for a week. Petunia and her parents couldn't even visit! And then the culprit had the audacity to apologize and <em> ask Lily out. </em></p><p> </p><p>Petunia felt hopeful when Lily said she jinxed him for that. Maybe she wasn't completely consumed by the evils of magic yet.</p><p> </p><p>But then Snape had to go and break her heart. He called her that slur and Lily was devastated. Petunia knew it. She <em> knew </em> Snape was nothing more than an obsessed creep. That summer Lily had been quite subdued. She said that Snape was friends with bad people, and practiced evil magic. She was depressed up till the day she got on the train for her last year at Hogwarts.</p><p> </p><p>Petunia didn't get any letters that year. Her sister wrote their parents just often enough to assure them she was fine. That she was studying lots and planning to get a job with the Ministry of Magic (apparently wizards had their own government) when she graduated.</p><p> </p><p>Petunia knew she could never bring Lily back. She had to let go of her sister. She chose the magical world. Petunia was busy with her own life and had to move on. Vernon proposed and they began to plan their life together. He didn't blame her for her freak sister, and agreed that magic could only bring evil.</p><p> </p><p>But then Lily came home with her <em> own </em> fiance.</p><p> </p><p>James freaking Potter. Lily married James Potter, the awful boy who had used magic to hurt people- as a <em> joke </em>. At first Petunia was sure he had cursed Lily in some way. Maybe a love potion? But no, Lily really did want to marry him.</p><p> </p><p>And he was just as bad as Petunia expected. Out of obligation she had invited the freakish couple to her wedding. Black came too, and that was when the trouble started.</p><p> </p><p>Vernon had been thanking everyone for attending after the reception, while Petunia let her friends fawn over her. And then her new husband was screaming. She ran over, to find Black and Potter laughing. Vernon's tuxedo had shrunken on him, to the point where he was struggling to breathe.</p><p> </p><p>Oh, Lily had been upset at her fiance all right. She had fixed the suit and then dragged the nasty boys out of there. But it was done. Petunia and her had a screaming match.</p><p> </p><p>Petunia disowned her sister. She told Lily, to her face, that she never wanted to speak again. They were through. No more freaks would ever intrude on her life again.</p><p> </p><p>And they hadn't seen each other since. The only correspondence they exchanged was birth announcements for their respective babies. Petunia had sent hers a statement, that she had the life she always wanted and a beautiful little boy to boot.</p><p> </p><p>A couple of months later Lily sent her own announcement. The birth of Herakles Lyra Potter. What sort of name was Herakles, anyway?! And for a <em> girl </em> no less. The picture showed a happy little baby with thick black hair and emerald eyes, <em> moving </em> about the photo like the freak it was.</p><p> </p><p>Petunia had burned it in the fireplace.</p><p> </p><p>It was more than a year since that had happened and she hadn't thought of it since. That is, until her husband came home from work one day and asked a question that froze her in her tracks.</p><p> </p><p>"Er -- Petunia, dear -- you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"</p><p> </p><p>She was shocked and a bit angry. They had an unspoken agreement to act as if she didn't have a sister, after all. "No," she snapped. "Why?"</p><p> </p><p>Her husband glanced at the television and took a deep breath before mumbling "Funny stuff on the news. Owls... Shooting stars... And there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today..."</p><p> </p><p>Petunia inhaled sharply. She knew where this was going, but she had to be sure. He couldn't really be implying what she thought he was, could he?</p><p> </p><p>"<em> So? </em>" She spat out.</p><p> </p><p>He had the decency to look slightly sheepish. "Well, I just thought... Maybe... It was something to do with... You know... <em> Her </em> crowd." He paused as she sipped her tea to calm her nerves. When he continued, his voice was slightly strangled like he was trying very hard to act nonchalant. "Their daughter -- she'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't she?"</p><p> </p><p>Petunia tensed up. What did anything have to do with that little freak? And comparing her to Dudley... That was sickening. "I suppose so." She responded stiffly.</p><p> </p><p>"What's her name again? Harriet, isn't it?"</p><p> </p><p>He looked <em> hopeful </em> for some reason. Like his life depended on her confirming that yes, Potter's spawn was indeed called Harriet. But she wasn't, and Petunia suspected he knew that.</p><p> </p><p>"Herakles. Ugly, strange name if you ask me. Exactly the sort of thing you would expect of <em> their </em> sort, of course." She watched as he paled with every word and narrowed her eyes. She wanted to just let it go, but... She couldn't. "Why?"</p><p> </p><p>"Er..." He stammered. "No reason, dear. I'm sure the name is more common than it seems. It's from mythology, isn't it? Yes, I'm sure there are quite a few Herakles Potters out there." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. Evidently, he was doing a very bad job.</p><p> </p><p>She closed her eyes tight for a second before setting her tea down on an end table and sinking into an armchair. "Vernon," she said softly. "Did something happen today?"</p><p> </p><p>For a moment he looked like he would deny it, but then he sighed and nodded his head in confirmation. "Like I said, there has been a lot of... <em> Unpleasantness </em> today. People dressed in ridiculous outfits out yelling and celebrating. One of them called me a... A... Muddle? No, that's not it..."</p><p> </p><p>Her heart sank. "Muggle?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, yes, that's it. Well, there were a lot of <em> them </em> out today. And... And I overheard some of them talking about the Potter's. And their daughter... Herakles."</p><p> </p><p>She was trembling now and very glad she had set her tea down or she was sure she would have dropped it. Something had happened. Something big, bigger than anything in that world than ever before.</p><p> </p><p>And somehow, her sister was right in the middle of it.</p><p> </p><p>"What... What else did you hear?" She asked quietly, fear evident in her voice.</p><p> </p><p>Vernon gave her an odd look but responded after a moment. "The man -- the one who called me a muggle -- he said I should 'rejoice, for You-Know-Who is gone at last.' I <em> don </em> ' <em> t </em> know who, of course, but I wasn't about to ask."</p><p> </p><p>Petunia let out a long breath. She wasn't sure if it was in stress or relief. Probably both. It was probably good, wasn't it, if that was all that happened. "Lil- My <em> sister </em> spoke about him. Called him He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or You-Know-Who. He is, or was, a terrorist of some sort. Used the darkest types of... Well, he was considered evil. Even for <em> their </em> lot. Killed a lot of people. And not just their type, either. He wanted to kill <em> normal </em> people. People like us." She stared at a random point on the wall opposite her. This was the most she had said about anything <em> magic </em> related in years.</p><p> </p><p>Vernon looked at her long and hard for a moment. "Well, right then. That's... Well, I suppose everything should go back to normal soon. Perhaps I will call in sick tomorrow. Spend the day with Dudley and you."</p><p> </p><p>She nodded stiffly and he stood to leave. But then Petunia thought of something that made fear rise in her chest. "Did... Did you notice any strangeness around <em> here </em>?"</p><p> </p><p>He paused. The implication was clear -- they might not be safe. "No, not any more than..." Suddenly he took in a sharp breath. "It's probably nothing, but there is a very odd cat outside our house. It's been there all day. I... I thought I saw it reading a map earlier."</p><p> </p><p>Petunia went to the window. Sure enough, a stern-looking cat was sitting motionless on the garden wall.</p><p> </p><p>And it was looking right back at her. She quickly drew the curtains shut as fast as she could and turned to her husband. "It's one of <em> them </em>, Vernon!" She shrieked hysterically. "Some of them can turn into animals, and I even heard about a teacher that could turn into a... A cat!"</p><p> </p><p>His eyes grew big in fear. "Do you think it wants to hurt us?"</p><p> </p><p>Petunia pursed her lips and pondered the question. "I... I don't think so. It could have done it at any time. But it will bring nothing but trouble. I might be able to get rid of it. You go check on Dudley!"</p><p> </p><p>"No, you can't risk it, darling, please --"</p><p> </p><p>She set her jaw. "I'll be fine. I survived all those years with <em> her </em> after all. I... I can handle this. Just keep an eye on Dudley."</p><p> </p><p>She didn't wait for him to protest and hurried out the front door before she could change her mind. She ignored the fact that she was in a nightgown and dressing robe, with bare feet. She stalked towards the cat.</p><p> </p><p>The feline turned slightly to face her but made no motion to leave. Petunia halted a meter away from it. Thankfully it was already dark out, or the neighbors would surely talk about how Mrs. Dursley of Number Four had gone mad, talking to cats in her nightclothes.</p><p> </p><p>"I -- I know what you are." She hissed quietly. The cat only cocked its head in response. "Get out of here. We want nothing to do with <em> your </em> sort."</p><p> </p><p>The cat gave her what seemed to be a stern glare and Petunia suddenly felt rather like a young child being chided for being rude.</p><p> </p><p>She went on, though with much less confidence. "Go on! Get! I don't know why you're here, but if it has anything to do with my freak sister or her horrible husband, I'll have you know that I haven't even seen or spoken to her in years! So, as you can see, we have nothing to do with this! Just... Just leave us <em> alone." </em>She begged desperately.</p><p> </p><p>The blasted cat looked angry, and for a moment Petunia thought it might attack her. But it just turned and lept gracefully off the wall, stalking across the street. Then it made a point of settling down on the walkway over there, still watching Petunia and her house.</p><p> </p><p>She sighed and eyed the creature warily. This was a little better, but not much. Still, she didn't dare press the matter any further.</p><p> </p><p>She returned to the safety of her home and locked the door behind her with trembling hands. Vernon was waiting for her.</p><p> </p><p>"Well?" He asked gruffly.</p><p> </p><p>She shuddered slightly. "I got it to at least leave the property. It's still there, but I don't think it will bother us." She whispered. "There isn't much we can do about it."</p><p> </p><p>He nodded, reluctantly, and marched back upstairs. Petunia didn't move from her spot for several minutes, until she noticed her still mostly full mug of tea.</p><p> </p><p>She finished it off, despite the fact it had long gone cold.</p><hr/><p>It was a couple of hours before the cat moved again. Mr. and Mrs. Dursley were both in bed, though she had a sneaking suspicion neither would sleep well tonight.</p><p> </p><p>The feline padded silently back across the street. She was half tempted to urinate all over the precious garden, but she had far too much dignity for something like <em> that </em> . She considered perhaps simply clawing the flowers to shreds, but that too was beneath her. She hardly needed a reason to make Petunia <em> more </em>hostile towards their kind.</p><p> </p><p>What was Albus thinking, bringing the girl here? Surely her godfather, or the Longbottoms, or even Andromeda would be better. Someone who would love and care for the little girl. Honestly, <em> anyone </em> would be better than these awful muggles.</p><p> </p><p>For Merlin's sake, what was that barmy old goat up to this time? She loved the man, of course, but sometimes she wondered if he wasn't completely off his rocker.</p><p> </p><p>What was it that the Prewett brothers used to say? 'Brilliant but mad as a hatter?'</p><p> </p><p>It was quite an apt description.</p><p> </p><p>Speaking of the devil himself, a loud <em> crack </em> echoed down the street. She turned to look at the new arrival.</p><p> </p><p>Albus Dumbledore merrily walked down the street. He pulled out an odd device, which looked almost like a lighter. Except, when he clicked it open, there was no flame. Instead, the light from the streetlamps seemed to be sucked into it. When it once again clicked shut, Privet Drive was shadowed in darkness.</p><p> </p><p>The old wizard continued on, undisturbed by the dark. His long yellow robes and purple cloak clashed horribly though, so perhaps it was for the best that anyone who looked out their windows at that moment would be unable to see him.</p><p> </p><p>The cat watched him approach, unimpressed. She could see perfectly fine in the dark and was not spared the sight of his garish outfit.</p><p> </p><p>He, too, seemed to see her. The old man paused only a moment before letting out a quiet chuckle. His blue eyes twinkled behind half-moon spectacles. "Ah," he muttered. "I should have known." He put the light putter-outer back into a deep pocket that was lost in the folds of his robe. "Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."</p><p> </p><p>Where the tabby had been just moments prior, now sat a stern-looking woman. She was also wearing a cloak, an emerald one, but unlike the man it seemed to suit her dark dress.</p><p> </p><p>She didn't bother with small talk. "Surely, Albus, you aren't really planning on leaving the girl <em> here </em>? I've been watching them all day, and --"</p><p> </p><p>"All day, my dear Professor? Surely you should have been out celebrating like everyone else!"</p><p> </p><p>She sniffed haughtily at the interruption. "Ah yes, like everyone else. Does nobody care about the Statue of Secrecy?! The muggles have <em> noticed </em> , Albus! How fine a day would it be if we finally got rid of You-Know-Who, only for the muggles to discover us?" She paused briefly and looked back at him over the top of her square spectacles. "I suppose he really <em> is </em> gone?"</p><p> </p><p>"It would seem so." He confirmed. "And it's all thanks to little Herakles Potter!"</p><p> </p><p>She sighed. "So the rumors are true then? James and Lily..."</p><p> </p><p>Albus' cheery disposition dropped and he donned a much more solemn air about him. "Yes, I'm afraid they are dead. Hopefully the last victims to fall at Voldemort's hand."</p><p> </p><p>McGonagall visibly deflated and slouched slightly against the low garden wall. She didn't lose any tears, but she rarely did. After so many years of war, the losses had been numerous. But the idea that James and Lily were gone just before they <em> finally </em> had peace... It hurt the Professor something terrible.</p><p> </p><p>Albus glanced down at a rather peculiar watch he had dug out from that mysterious pocket. "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was him who told you I would be here."</p><p> </p><p>McGonagall stiffened. "Yes. And I don't suppose you will tell me <em> why </em> you are here, of all places?"</p><p> </p><p>Albus looked at her for a long moment before responding. "I think you already know, Minerva. That's why you have been watching the Dursleys all day, after all."</p><p> </p><p>"Well, I can only hope I'm wrong." She snapped half-heartedly. "Surely you don't plan to leave Lily's daughter <em> here </em>? These people are the worst sorts of muggles, Albus. Petunia somehow knew that I was more than a cat, and came out to tell me in no uncertain terms that she wanted nothing to do with her 'freak sister or her horrid husband.' Every child in our world will grow up knowing Herakles' name, but you want to leave her with people who despise her existence?"</p><p> </p><p>She glared at him even as he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He shook his head slightly before responding. "I understand your concern, Minerva. But that is precisely <em> why </em> this is the best place for her. Away from fame and the pressure of our world. She can have a normal childhood here, with her <em> family </em>."</p><p> </p><p>They were interrupted by a low rumbling noise, which only seemed to be getting louder. The old man instantly brightened up.</p><p> </p><p>"Ah," he said happily. "Hagrid is here."</p><p> </p><p>The usual pair looked up towards the sky as a point of light appeared. The light soon became two, then it was clear they were actually headlights on a large, flying motorcycle.</p><p> </p><p>The vehicle soon landed smoothly on the cobbled street of Privet Drive -- right in front of Number Four, and the two people standing right outside.</p><p> </p><p>The man on the contraption was massive, to say the least. He was just under four meters tall and almost as wide. In his arms he held a small bundle, which seemed even smaller in such giant hands.</p><p> </p><p>"Is that --" McGonagall started.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeh." The giant man responded. "It's 'erakles. I got 'er out before muggles started swarmin' th' place. She fell asleep as we were flying o’er Bristol."</p><p> </p><p>He held out the bundle, cradled in a single hand, to McGonagall and Dumbledore. The former gingerly took it.</p><p> </p><p>Swaddled in the soft blanket was a sleeping baby. She looked so peaceful, despite the fresh lightning-shaped cut above her right eye. She yawned in the Professor's arms before settling back down and curling against the woman.</p><p> </p><p>"Is that where..." She started, looking at the red wound. It wasn't bleeding anymore, if it ever had been.</p><p> </p><p>"Yes." Dumbledore confirmed solemnly. "She'll have that scar forever, I'm afraid. It's the mark of dark magic."</p><p> </p><p>McGonagall squinted at it in concern. "We should have her taken to St. Mungo's. There's no telling what kind of effects she could suffer. No one has survived the killing curse before, after all."</p><p> </p><p>The old man shook his head. "No, no. She will be poked and prodded as every healer wants to be the one to examine the Girl-Who-Lived. Poppy looked her over and found nothing of concern."</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, well, Poppy is an excellent mediwitch but this may be a bit beyond her expertise. We need someone knowledgeable in Dark curses" she insisted.</p><p> </p><p>Dumbledore put a calming hand on her shoulder. "The child is <em> fine </em>, Minerva. Let me take her."</p><p> </p><p>She reluctantly gave up the bundle and watched the Headmaster walk up to the front door. She expected him to ring the doorbell, but he instead gently set Herakles down on the doorstep and tucked a letter into the folds of the blanket.</p><p> </p><p>McGonagall gaped at him in incredulity as he returned to her and Hagrid. "Albus, just <em> what </em> do you think you are doing? You can't seriously be planning on leaving a <em> fifteen-month-old </em> child on a doorstep! It's <em> November </em>. She's old enough to wander off, you know! What if a wild animal finds her- assuming she doesn't freeze to death!" She started to march over to the baby but was stopped by Dumbledore.</p><p> </p><p>"Minerva," he said calmly. "There's no need to worry. I've placed all sorts of charms to keep her safe until morning. This is the only way for the wards to take effect. Besides, I've left a letter explaining everything."</p><p> </p><p>"A... A <em> letter </em> ?" She stammered. "You want to explain all of this in a <em> letter </em>?"</p><p> </p><p>The Headmaster sighed and placed a hand on each of the witch's shoulders. "Minerva. Do you trust me? I know what I am doing. I need you to believe me, this is the only way to protect the girl."</p><p> </p><p>"Of course I trust you." She sniffed. "But I don't see how..."</p><p> </p><p>"It's the only way." He repeated. Come now, let us return to Hogwarts. We have much to do."</p><p> </p><p>She gave one last look at the slumbering girl before allowing herself to be led away and apparated to the school.</p><p> </p><p>Minerva McGonagall would spend the next decade wondering whether she did the right thing.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Secret in the Cupboard</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>If you asked anyone on Privet Drive about the Dursleys' niece, they would all say the same thing.</span>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, little Hera Potter? Such a sweet girl. I heard her parents were druggies and drunks, you know. Really, it's a good thing they died and Hera could grow up with her wonderful aunt and uncle. They've raised her well. She's shy but very polite. Pretty little thing, too." Then they would lean in and glance around conspiratorially. "They say she isn't quite right in the head. Lovely girl, but sometimes she gets this far away look in her eye. Probably from the car accident. That's where she got that unfortunate scar."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course, if you asked the residents of Number Four they might give a very similar answer. But if given a few drops of Veritaserum, or just a bit too much alcohol, they would say how they really felt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Petunia would hum disinterestedly to herself. "Hmm? Oh, yes, Hera. I always wanted a daughter, you know, to dress up and do her hair. It's a shame she's a freak. But the ladies in the garden club adore her, and if she behaves I let her sit with us for dinner. The dancing and singing lessons were a bit expensive but all the neighborhood moms are </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>jealous, and tell me what a great job I've done."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vernon would not be so docile. "What about the little bitch?" He'd growl. "We took the freak in, clothed and fed her, but she is just an ungrateful wench. I suppose she has her use, though. I've gotten quite a few promotions and business deals after having her attend business dinners. I'll stamp the Freakishness out of her yet!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her cousin, Dudley, would laugh. "My Freak cousin? Well, she's a Freak! That's why she sleeps in the cupboard under the stairs and never gets no presents. We play Hera Hunting sometimes, but she's really fast. If we catch her we rough her up a bit and throw her in the mud. Mummy always gets mad at her if her dresses get dirty!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But it is Hera herself who would look at you with confusion and glance around to see if you're really talking to </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>. "Me? Well, I'm just... Hera. I guess I like to draw and read, and cook. Is that what you want to know? I'm sorry, I should probably go, I hear my Aunt calling me... I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All in all, Hera was a talented young girl who did what she had to to survive. She learned to dance because her aunt wanted her to and talked to her uncle's co-workers because he didn't hit her if he was happy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She didn't see any of these things as impressive. She didn't have a choice but to be perfect.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Except she </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn</span>
  </em>
  <span>'</span>
  <em>
    <span>t </span>
  </em>
  <span>perfect. Hera was a ten-year-old girl who was full of curiosity and that tended to get her trouble.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like right now. She was laying on her cot, locked in her cupboard under the stairs, because she had asked Petunia why she couldn't read </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Of course, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> read it, but her aunt didn't need to know that. As far as Hera was concerned she couldn't find anything too objectionable in the book.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And now she had to spend the rest of the day locked up. She was used to it. A bit of extra cleaning, some sucking up, and baking cookies would make this whole incident forgotten.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wished she had homework to work on -- for at least that was something to do -- but she had finished all of her summer work the first week back (Stonewall let out at the start of June). She had skipped a couple of grades so she had a bigger workload than Dudley, but it didn't take her very long. At first, the Dursleys had been upset at her daring to do better than their little Duddikins, but quickly changed their minds when the school had mentioned that their daughter could probably enter academic competitions for cash prizes in a few years. They hadn't even bothered to correct the Headmistress that Hera was their niece.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had actually done a few competitions, like the spelling bee, and did quite well but the really big ones wouldn't be available until she was a little bit older. So, as long as her schoolwork didn't interfere with chores, she was permitted to do as well as she liked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn't that she loved school or anything. She did enjoy most of her subjects, but it was all just another way to survive. She needed a good education to escape her aunt and uncle's grip.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Knowledge was great but ultimately a means to an end.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her favorite class, one that she would have worked just as hard in even if there was no benefit, was maths. She thought she might study it in University when she was older. It just sort of... made sense. It also helped her with cooking a bit, since most recipes had to be at least tripled to accommodate the Dursleys.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was too bad she rarely got to eat much of what she made. Her relatives would not be happy if she took more than just what was required to check the taste.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hera sighed and tried to stretch, which was difficult in such a small space. She was petite for a ten-year-old. She could </span>
  <em>
    <span>easily </span>
  </em>
  <span>pass as a tall seven or eight-year-old. But her cupboard was still so cramped. Even now, stretching her arms, her hands bumped up against the underside of the stairs. She had to sleep with her head near the lower side because there were shelves just above her feet at the other end. This meant she had bumped her head more than a couple of times.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She smiled at the faded brown words staining the ceiling- 'Hera's Room.' She had written it a few years ago after her uncle had beaten her and stated she had nowhere to go. She used her own blood to claim this tiny space as her own in response. It was a bit macrabè, but it was a little act of rebellion she could still appreciate. Thankfully her aunt didn't make a habit of crawling in to examine the cobweb-covered ceiling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yes, it was tiny and ugly, but the cupboard was </span>
  <em>
    <span>hers</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The ugly green shelves held her few possessions. She had a whole row of notebooks and sketchbooks, along with her writing implements. She had won a fancy pen last year that you had to dip in actual ink and had practiced writing with it to near perfection. It was her most valuable possession.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She also had some worn paperback books. Her favorite genre was fantasy, with science fiction a close second, but her aunt only let realistic, historical, or nonfiction books into her home. Hera still read other books but didn't dare any of the offending genres.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because of this she only owned books she had already found around the house. Mostly torn and well-loved books she found in a box in the attic, such as </span>
  <em>
    <span>Little Women </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Anne of Green Gables</span>
  </em>
  <span>, or books that Dudley had gotten as gifts but never once opened, like </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lord of the Flies</span>
  </em>
  <span> (which was quite a depressing gift for a nine-year-old; she suspected the giver had never actually read the book) and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Swiss Family Robinson</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Her favorite book that she owned, though, was probably </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Phantom Tollbooth</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was one she had found in the attic and the cover had long been torn off, which was likely the only reason she got to keep such a fantastical book- Petunia didn't recognize it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But there was another reason she loved the book besides its actual story. On the title page, written in blue pen, was '</span>
  <em>
    <span>Property of Lily Evans.</span>
  </em>
  <span>' The book had belonged to her mother. She actually hadn't even known her mother's name until she found the book, but it wasn’t too hard to deduce who the name probably belonged to. She had then confirmed this by casually mentioning her mother, 'Lily,' and Petunia had thrown her in the cupboard for mentioning her "Freak sister!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Interestingly enough, after that Hera swore she heard her aunt crying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ever since then Hera had maintained tiger lilies in the front garden. She was sure Petunia realized the significance, since she stiffened whenever she saw them, but the woman never said a word about it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The attic was honestly a treasure trove of secrets. Hera didn't dare open any sealed boxes, but not everything was packed away. Old costume jewelry, faded baby clothes that had once been Dudley's, random ornaments...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But there was one thing up there that she always came back to. It was a light green trunk with flowers engraved on it and the initials '</span>
  <em>
    <span>LRE</span>
  </em>
  <span>' engraved on the lock. After learning her mother's name she figured that these must be her initials. The trunk seemed to be full of things but she was forever locked out. She couldn't explain it, but it felt like this one thing held answers to questions she hadn't even thought to ask.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hera sighed and closed her eyes. Maybe she could fall asleep and dream of green trunks and orange flowers.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>"Up! Get up! Now!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hera jumped at the shrill voice of her aunt and the rapping on her cupboard door. She had not had the pleasant dreams she hoped for, but instead a familiar nightmare involving a flash of green light, a woman screaming, and a flying motorcycle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Up!" Petunia yelped with one final knock at the cupboard door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hera quickly tried to sit up, which predictably resulted in hitting her head against the step. She groaned but ignored the pain and blearily pushed open her cupboard.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Are you up yet?" Her aunt yelled from the kitchen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes, Aunt Petunia!" She responded, stifling a yawn. She knelt down in the cupboard doorway to reach for the plastic bins under the cot where she kept her clothes. Her 'pajamas' consisted of only one of Dudley's old shirts, which was mustard yellow and approximately five sizes too large. It was a struggle to just keep it from falling off her shoulders.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hurry up! I need you to make bacon, everything needs to be perfect for my little Dudders birthday!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ah, crap. Dudley's birthday? How could she forget? Hera fought the urge to groan. "I'll just be a minute, Aunt Petunia."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She quickly chose a casual green cotton dress and short black leggings. There was nothing spectacular about the outfit; in fact it was quite dull, but it was at the very least comfortable and not horribly offensive. She also grabbed fresh underwear before sliding everything back under the cot and closing the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Girl! You need to start the bacon!" Petunia unhelpfully reminded her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Just getting dressed!" She called back over her shoulder while running for the bathroom. She was an expert at getting ready under a minute, and was just finishing her braid as she at long last skidded into the kitchen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hera didn't waste any time in getting breakfast started. The bacon was just starting to sizzle when Dudley came lumbering down the stairs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her cousin was, to put it mildly, very fat. He took after his father in that regard. In fact, give him a bushy mustache and the boy would look just like a slightly scaled-down version of Vernon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, my sweet little Duddikins!" Petunia crowed. Hera rolled her eyes, which she wouldn't dare do if anyone was watching her. "You're so grown up! Oh, I can’t believe you’re eleven -- and going off to Smeltings in the fall, too!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ah yes; Smeltings. The all-boys school for pompous prats who enjoyed hitting each other with sticks and learning how to look down on everyone else. Hera figured Dudley would be a prodigy there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had just finished breakfast when her cousin's attention found the massive pile of presents waiting for him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"How many are there?" He asked. No thank you, no excitement, just a demand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why don't you count them?" Hera said pleasantly. The fat boy stuck his tongue out at her while Petunia glared, but he began to anyway as she set the table.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Thirty-four... Thirty-five... Thirty-six!" He announced after losing track and needing to restart a couple of times. "Thirty-six? Last year I got </span>
  <em>
    <span>thirty-eight</span>
  </em>
  <span>!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, you missed this big one right over here!" Petunia said quickly to avoid a tantrum. She would not be so lucky.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Okay, thirty-seven then! That's still less than last year!" He wailed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hera didn't have to look to know his lip was trembling. He was an honest to god </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrible</span>
  </em>
  <span> actor, but his parents never suspected a thing. His obviously fake crying made Petunia panic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hera tried to ignore the all too familiar spectacle, but when her cousin struggled to add </span>
  <em>
    <span>two</span>
  </em>
  <span> she was barely able to hold back her laughter. She was sure her ribs were breaking under the strain of keeping it in. And she would know what that felt like; she had once been hit by a van straight on when Dudley pushed her into the street. They hadn't even taken her to the hospital, although Petunia did take extra care of her for the next few weeks and Dudley was, for the first and likely only time, grounded (for a single day).</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hera escaped the situation by ducking back into her cupboard and shutting the door. At least she could safely snicker in here, if not full-on roar in laughter. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> to find humor in her living situation, or she would have gone mad long ago.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She finally managed to catch her breath. Her chest still hurt. It didn't take much; she probably had permanent damage to her lungs. Being hit by that van wasn't the only time she was badly hurt. Honestly, it was a miracle she was even alive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The times she had passed out after Dudley held her in a chokehold was not zero. She had probably blacked out four or five times. She had bad scarring on her back from times Vernon hit her with the belt. Her eyesight had been fine until she was thrown into a glass door. She hadn't expected to see again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But each time, she made a miraculous recovery. Not fully, of course, but more than should be possible. This always seemed to disturb her relatives but they normally felt they had gone too far this time and didn't dare punish her further.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was other times that she was punished for her 'freakishness.' Like when her teacher's wig abruptly turned blue, or the time she had been running from Dudley and his gang when she suddenly, and inexplicably, found herself on the roof of the school.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had gotten a week in the cupboard for that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By far the strangest reaction, though, was the one with the flower when she was three. She had been holding a small daisy in her hand and found that the petals started opening and closing when she focused on them, and immediately ran to show her aunt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hera had naively thought that her garden-obsessed aunt would love the interesting flower. Instead, Petunia had paled considerably and looked terrified. She had then slapped the flower away and dragged Hera inside.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She never showed Petunia anything interesting again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Where did the Freak go?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hera looked up in confusion at hearing her uncle's growl. They rarely looked for her unless she was supposed to be working on chores. She didn't think she had anymore at the moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Still, best not to leave him waiting. That would only turn out worse for everyone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So she once again left her little room and re-entered the kitchen. "Were you looking for me, Uncle Vernon?" She asked in a subdued tone. He rarely got physical if she acted submissive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You! Mrs. Figg can't take you today girl, so you're coming with us!" He snapped unhappily. Dudley glared at her. It seemed he was just as unhappy about this revelation. "I don't want any </span>
  <em>
    <span>funny business</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you hear?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She nodded quickly. Before anyone could say anything further, the doorbell rang. Dudley, forgetting how upset he was, ran off to greet his best friend Piers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Piers was a lanky rat-faced boy who had nothing against hitting girls much smaller than him. Over the years most of Dudley's gang got a little warier of that sort of thing, but this kid was all too happy to hold Hera or anyone else in place while Dudley pummeled them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Luckily the boys seemed much too excited about going to the zoo to do more than shoot Hera nasty looks. She responded by pulling funny faces at them. They had to look away so as not to give her the satisfaction of laughing at the spectacle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Soon they were squished into the backseat. Piers and Hera were both very thin, but Dudley was so fat they ended up with barely enough room anyway. Hera focused on not suffocating while half-listening to Vernon complain about every other motorist on the road.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He said something about motorcycles, and Hera almost mentioned her dream before thinking better of it. No doubt he would be upset to hear about her dreams, no less ones as </span>
  <em>
    <span>unnatural</span>
  </em>
  <span> as flying motorcycles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They managed to make it to the zoo without killing each other so Hera counted that as a success.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dudley and Piers dragged them around to all the interesting animals. Hera was content to go along, enjoying her lemon ice that she had gotten because the lady at the ice cream stand asked what she wanted before Vernon could drag her away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She especially liked the gorillas. They looked just like Dudley, except they weren't blonde.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I suppose this is an okay place for a family reunion," She mused sagely to him. "It is certainly enlightening to meet your cousins on the other side of the family." She had then calmly walked away while he stupidly tried to figure out if he had just been insulted before seeming to decide that was too much effort and shrugging off the words of his freak cousin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was actually a very pleasant morning for Hera. She planned to draw as many of the animals as she could remember as soon as they got home. At lunch, she even got to finish her cousin's ice cream when he got another one because the first wasn't good enough for him. They looked exactly the same to Hera, but she didn't complain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then they got to the Reptile House.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had never actually been bothered much by snakes. Petunia looked very nervous at the large tanks around them, and several girls Hera's age shrieked in excited horror, but she just thought they were cool.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The boys kept banging on the glass of one large snake, trying to get it to move, before giving up and moving on to the poisonous frogs. Hera went over to see the supposedly 'boring' serpent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was a beautiful specimen, really. The boa constrictor lay lazily on a warm rock, trying to relax despite the screams of obnoxious children around him. His body was long and thick and rippled with power.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That was my cousin." She said softly to the creature. "He's always like that. He bangs on my cupboard, too. It's actually much smaller than your tank, but at least it isn't glass. And I suppose I am much smaller than you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To her surprise, the snake lifted his head until it was eye level with her. She could have been imagining it, but the thing seemed to be looking at her with understanding and even amusement. And then it seemed to wink, which was all the more shocking considering Hera was fairly certain snakes didn't have eyelids.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In disbelief, she asked "Can you understand me?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>nodded</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Huh. Here she was, talking to a snake like they were old friends. Maybe she had finally gone barmy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Where are you from?" She asked politely. The response was a tail flick at the sign which read 'Boa Constrictor, Brazil.' "Oh, did you like it there -- ah, no, bred in captivity. I never knew where I came from either." She said sadly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The snake nodded again in understanding. Unfortunately, Piers saw that. "DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME LOOK AT THE SNAKE! YOU WON'T </span>
  <em>
    <span>BELIEVE</span>
  </em>
  <span> WHAT IT'S DOING!" He screamed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dudley waddled over in the closest thing to a run he could manage, and violently punched Hera in the stomach to get her out of the way. She went flying and ended up sprawled on the ground with the wind knocked out of her. After a moment she managed to shakily sit up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The snake was looking at her with something suspiciously like concern.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hey! Stop looking at the Freak! Look at me!" Dudley demanded. He was pressed up against the glass.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly Hera was very, very </span>
  <em>
    <span>angry</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She almost never got truly mad, even when Vernon hit her or Petunia burned her drawings because they had magical creatures in them. But at the moment, all she could feel was white-hot rage. Fire burned in her veins, and in that moment she wanted nothing more than to </span>
  <em>
    <span>rip her cousin’s throat out</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then, all of a sudden, it was gone. And so, curiously, was the glass to the exhibit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dudley and Piers lost their balance. The latter managed to catch himself but the former wasn't as lucky. His fat body tumbled into the pool in the tank with an impressive splash. The snake used him as a fleshy bridge and then went right on out to the building floor. People screamed and ran as he nipped playfully at ankles. One woman fainted and was promptly abandoned by her boyfriend.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hera watched all this with fascination. She really shouldn't have been surprised when he slithered right past her, only inches away, and clearly said "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Thanks, amiga.</span>
  </em>
  <span>" She only nodded vaguely in response as he left the building with impressive speed. The last thing she heard before his tail fully went out of sight was "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Brazil, here I come</span>
  </em>
  <span>!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hera had the oddest feeling she had just made a friend and lost him just as quickly. At least he got freedom. She was envious but happy for him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her attention snapped back to the actual humans when Petunia started wailing incoherently. It seemed the glass had reappeared, and Dudley was trapped on the other side. Vernon was demanding that a poor, terrified teen selling souvenirs get his son out of there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hera got to her feet and brushed the dirt off of her dress. She felt strangely calm as she took in the panic. Most people were gone, except for her relatives, Piers, the passed out woman, the teen employee, and a very bewildered little boy. The boy was standing frozen, his eyes wide in confusion and panic. She glanced around to see if there was anyone coming for him, but of course no one did. It really wasn’t her problem, and she wasn’t particularly fond of children...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hera sighed and approached the child. He seemed to be about five or six and had a mop of light brown hair and bright blue eyes. "It's okay." She promised. "I'm sure your mommy or daddy will be right back."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He blinked at her before glancing around like maybe they would appear out of the walls. When no one did, he frowned and turned back to her. "Mummy and Daddy are dead." He sounded rather resigned to the fact.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She gave him a pained smile. "Mine too." She noticed he was wearing a t-shirt with a logo and the words 'Wool's Children's Home.' So, like an orphanage then. "Well, who are you here with?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The boy considered her for a moment before answering. "Miss Lindsey."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hera nodded. "I'm sure Miss Lindsey will be coming for you soon.” She hesitated before sighing in resignation. “Here, you can stay with me until then." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, since she was apparently the most responsible person in the room, she probably had an obligation to check on the unconscious woman. At least, Hera hoped she was just unconscious. She would feel ever so slightly guilty if the woman had dropped dead in shock. That had happened to old Mr. Winters over on Wisteria Walk. He had a heart condition, though, so it probably wasn’t a huge risk for a woman who looked mostly healthy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Besides the whole lying motionless on the floor bit, that was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Luckily, just as Hera knelt down the lady's eyes blinked open. She looked at the girl above her with confusion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're fine." Hera reassured her. She seemed to be doing a lot of that the last couple of minutes. "You just fainted for a moment. The area's safe, so don't get up until you feel ready."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Th-there was a snake!" The woman insisted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, but it's gone now." She responded wearily. Hera didn't know why she was even doing this, she wasn't really the selfless, compassionate sort of girl. Honestly, it was more that no one else was going to do it so it had to be her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And that's the moment certain people remembered her existence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hey, Hera was talking to the snake, weren't you?" Piers said loudly for no apparent reason other than he was bored. Vernon whipped around, only now stopping his angry rant at the trembling teen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ah, </span>
  <em>
    <span>crap</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She knew it was better to go to him than make him come to her, so she wordlessly did so. There was no way she was getting food for a week.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She decided to address the souvenir worker first. "You should make sure they're okay." Hera commented flatly while gesturing to where she had come from. The teen nodded and ran off towards the kid and lady, all too happy to escape Hera’s fuming uncle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You little... When we get home! I'll, I'll --" He was almost foaming at the mouth and seemed too enraged to put together a full sentence so settled for sputtering threateningly at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was when people </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally </span>
  </em>
  <span>started to show up. Zoo workers ran in, as well as some security guards and even a medic. A woman who Hera assumed was Miss Lindsey took the boy and a very sheepish boyfriend helped the fainted lady up once the medic looked her over.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All the while Vernon had a firm grip on Hera's upper arm. She was sure it would leave bruises but she grit her teeth and refused to indicate the pain she was in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dudley was let free, much to a sobbing Petunia's delight. After about a half hour of questions and vigorous apologies on the part of the zoo, the Durselys stormed back to the car. Piers seemed quite happy with how the day went, cheerfully recounting how the snake wrapped around his torso and nearly killed him. Dudley was pretending to be traumatized since it was getting him lots of attention and promises of rewards.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hera was trying to make everyone forget she was there. It didn't work.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As soon as Piers was gone and they were back at Number Four, Vernon threw her into the cupboard and slammed it closed, the lock violently shoved in place.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hera wasn't let out until the start of July.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you all so much for reading! I won't always be able to upload a chapter a day but what with quarantine and all that I suddenly find myself with a bit more time than usual. Any questions or comments are, of course, always welcome.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Garden Party</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Hera had never much liked the summer holidays. Dudley and his gang spent all day terrorizing the neighborhood, and Hera was still their favorite target. She couldn't even hide in her cupboard all day since Petunia gave chores that took, at a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bare</span>
  </em>
  <span> minimum, eight hours. The only times her load was lightened at all was on Wednesdays when her aunt had Garden Club and inevitably brought Hera along as her perfect little doll.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh, she could play the part just fine. She didn't even mind it so much compared to the alternative but it was a lot of effort. And today was one such Wednesday. It was also exactly a week before her eleventh birthday.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hera didn't take too long in the shower, but did relish the warm water just a bit longer than was strictly necessary. She then carefully brushed through her hair, struggling through the wavy mess until it was all neat and hung around her face. She also straightened it, just a bit, and put some product in to keep it calm and soft. Petunia had always insisted she kept her hair neat, but the woman never even bothered to show her how to do so. Hera had taught herself how to manage her wild locks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After that it was a matter of doing dutch braids down either side of her head. The braids barely reached her shoulders when she finally tied them off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As normal, Petunia chose her outfit for the occasion. Today it was a poofy, short white dress with a thick green sash that complimented her eyes well, and a matching green floral pattern at the bottom of the skirt. While it was nice to be wearing something other than Dudley's hideous cast-offs Hera couldn't help but feel like constricted in her fancy dresses. She had to be extremely careful to keep the dress impeccable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, it was simple white sandals and letting her aunt put just a brush of makeup on her face and they were off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The ladies of the Garden Club were the elite of Little Whinging. Every woman in the area vied for a chance at an invitation. If you were accepted into the weekly meetings, you had proof that you were better than the plain housewives and overworked widows who lived around you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were other benefits, as well, but the main one was The Gossip. No secret was safe from the judgemental ears of the Garden Club. There was also a certain amount of protection by being </span>
  <em>
    <span>in</span>
  </em>
  <span> the club, since no elegant woman worth her lace doilies would dare comment anything uncouth in front of the subject themselves. Oh, they might subtly poke and prod but never outright say anything too damning.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unless you missed a meeting without a very, very good reason. Then it was open season.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All in all, the Garden Club was a dangerous but rewarding web of jealousy and pride, fraught with leading questions and insults so subtly implied it would consume you for the rest of the day whether you had, in fact, been slighted at all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Hera was the beautiful little jewel of the bunch. She exuded precise etiquette with an air of naive innocence. She seemed so oblivious to the true meanings behind certain statements. But, in reality, she was the best at the game. She could 'unknowingly' ask just the right, childish question that a whole new line of Gossip came spilling out. Still, as entertaining as it could be, there wasn't much benefit aside from keeping Petunia happy. Half the reason she played along at all was </span>
  <em>
    <span>because </span>
  </em>
  <span>of her resentment towards the entire group. All of them thought they were so </span>
  <em>
    <span>superior</span>
  </em>
  <span>. As far as Hera could tell, nearly everyone in Little Whinging was just a slight variation on the same empty facade of normalcy hiding their complete inadequacy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So, Hera took the opportunity and did her best to show the ladies that they were no better than those they liked to sneer about.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Whether the ladies saw through her not... Well, that was the whole point, wasn't it? Because as much as they might suspect, they had no way to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Subtly wasn't quite as important as leaving doubt towards her true intentions. After all, her implications needed to be clear, if nothing else.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like always, it started with the women exchanging formal greetings.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, Mabel, it's been so long. I don't know how you do it -- I can barely manage with </span>
  <em>
    <span>two</span>
  </em>
  <span> little ones, and here you are with the seventh on the way!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Susan, darling, I just </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> your pearls. You really should wear things like this more often, or people might start to think Robert isn't providing for you the way he should."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Welcome Petunia, and of course little Hera! Gorgeous as always. And how would your son be doing? Davey, was it? Oh, yes, he takes after his father. You must be </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> proud."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hera grinned brightly at the older lady talking to her aunt. "Good morning, Mrs. Ruth. I love your home by the way!" She blinked innocently. "You must have worked very hard in school to have such nice things." In actuality, Mrs. Ruth's considerable wealth came from her late husband, who had left her with a stepson that wasted half of their money on ridiculous investments. She had to drop out of school to pay for the boy's own education. Of course, not even Petunia knew that. And if anyone asked, neither did Hera.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lady put on a tight smile. "Yes, of course. I'm sure that if you continue to do just as well in school you will have an even nicer house." Mrs. Ruth then hurried away to greet other guests.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Petunia kept a stiff hand on Hera's shoulder as she was paraded around. The Garden Club ladies fawned over her, talking about how sweet and beautiful she was. She accepted compliments humbly and </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> returned them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, what a lovely dress, Hera dear. I'm sure you will have boys following after you in just a few years time." One thin-faced woman simpered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Thank you, Ms. Livingsdale. I like your hairstyle today, it reminds me of a movie we watched in school about the French Revolution."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, yes, I hadn't really thought of that... You know, I always wanted to live in Paris."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Me too. That's one reason I'm taking French in school, and German. Of course, I already know a lot of Latin so that helps with romance languages, but German is a bit harder. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Na ja, was kannst du tun?</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a while before everyone settled down for tea. Hera was sure to show perfect poise and use impeccable manners. At this point, it was best to just listen and take in The Gossip. It wasn't like they were actually going to talk about gardening, after all (unless it was to insult the front yard of someone in the neighborhood).</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Apparently, Lydia Johnson of Number Eight, Running Circle, was expecting twins -- but her husband had supposedly been away when she conceived. There was broad speculation as to who the father might be, but the general consensus was that it was Samuel Lymes of Number Nine, who was on his third wife and had five kids.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another new development was that the Banister's boy, Thomas, was supposedly </span>
  <em>
    <span>gay</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and had a secret boyfriend he planned to run away with as soon as they finished school -- but nobody knew who he was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aha. </span>
  <em>
    <span>There</span>
  </em>
  <span> was an opening Hera could take advantage of. She turned to a woman she particularly disliked; Mrs. Nora Divens, who had an equally unpleasant teenage son named Nathan. "Maybe you could ask Nate, Mrs. Divens. He and Thomas are so very close after all -- why, they always seem to be giggling and whispering to each other." Hera knew full well that Thomas and Nathan were </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> dating, but they were good friends. And she hadn't technically lied.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The woman went bright red, and then pale white. Hera had to hide her smile behind her teacup. Not so subtle, perhaps, but worth it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, yes." Mrs. Ruth said coyly. "They are quite close, aren't they?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After that, she just had to sit back and watch the glorious storm she had brought to the table. It was a while before they moved on -- no one really outright stating that the boys could be together, but it was implicit with every word. Personally she couldn’t care less what someone’s sexuality was, and didn’t really get why being homosexual was supposed to be so </span>
  <em>
    <span>scandalous</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Still, Nathan was annoying and cruel, and she had held a grudge against him ever since the boy (who was a full six years older than her) had tripped her and then laughed as she searched frantically for her glasses.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All in all it was a rather successful meeting of the Garden Club.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, Hera, I almost forgot. It's your birthday next week, isn't it? Well, I'm sure we won't be seeing the two of you, so we decided to celebrate today!" Mrs. Ruth announced. She went and brought out a tray of elegant little cakes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Petunia pursed her lips and stiffened. It had been implied that they wouldn't be there for the next meeting, which meant she was going to be the main topic. That was simply the way things worked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hera took pity on her. Well, not really, but this was an easy enough way to earn herself a favor. "Oh, wow! Thank you all so much, this is lovely. Yes, I suppose you're right; I will be out next week. I'll have my aunt bring you all some cookies I'll make though."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Petunia relaxed. She almost smiled at the girl, but then thought better of it and took a tiny piece of cake instead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yeah, Hera didn't mind the Garden Club so much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she and her aunt arrived home, Hera was surprised to find her uncle pacing back and forth right inside the door. He seemed to be waiting for them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Vernon, darling, what's wrong?" Petunia asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man waved an envelope around violently. "It came! I thought maybe they wouldn't... But of course they did! It's </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Petunia! They know we have Hera, and even... Oh, just look!" He practically threw the offending thing at his wife. He seemed an odd mix of scared and angry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hera, quite wisely, decided to sneak away. She went into the sitting room, where she could listen and not be seen. Surprisingly, her cousin seemed to have had the same exact idea. Dudley tried to whack her with his Smeltings stick but calmed down when she motioned for him to be quiet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Petunia gasped in what sounded like horror. "We... We knew it was coming! It doesn't matter. She won't go. Hera is continuing at Stonewall in the fall, and that's final! I don't care if her parents went there, she will never set foot in that place."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Look at the address! They must have been watching the house. Watching </span>
  <em>
    <span>us</span>
  </em>
  <span>! When we took that girl in we swore to stamp all the freakishness out of her!" Vernon bellowed. "But they won't stop. They know where we live! What do we do -- what if they come for her, and force her to go?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was silence for a moment. Dudley was giving his cousin odd looks, and she could understand why. It sounded almost like someone was trying to kidnap her, though normally they didn't write letters </span>
  <em>
    <span>before </span>
  </em>
  <span>committing the act. If it was contrary to Stonewall, could this be about some sort of school? Had she been accepted to a school her parents attended? That didn't make sense, she had been told they dropped out of secondary school.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unless the Dursley's lied to her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh. Of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course </span>
  </em>
  <span>they did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No... No, we don't have a choice." Petunia finally said in defeat. "It's better than putting our family at risk by making them mad. I'll... I'll talk to her."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dudley and Hera quickly scrambled onto the seats to look like they had not been listening. Vernon stalked in angrily and pointed a fat, shaking finger at her. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>You.</span>
  </em>
  <span>" He spat, but without much venom. "You... You got a letter."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He collapsed into an armchair like saying that took all the energy out of him. Hera didn't argue and ran off to find her aunt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Petunia was in the dining room, staring at the mysterious letter that brought so much trouble. Hera was suddenly nervous. She hesitantly sat next to her aunt and gingerly took the thing. She didn't meet any resistance. The first thing that stood out to her was that they didn't even get her name right. But the address left no doubt about who the recipient was meant to be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Herakles Lyra Potter</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Cupboard Under the Stairs</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Number Four, Privet Drive</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Little Whinging, Surrey</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The envelope was slightly yellowed, like old-timey paper. The effect was only multiplied when she turned it over and found an actual red wax seal with a coat of arms pressed into it. The seal had several animals, but the main focus was a large letter 'H.'</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Warily, she cracked the wax. There were only a couple of pages tucked neatly in, but she didn't even get past the heading of the first one before she had to stop.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Aunt Petunia... What this says, up here... Does it actually mean..." She couldn't even bring herself to ask it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're a witch, Hera." The woman responded flatly. "Just like your mother. She got a letter, too, when she was your age. Hogwarts. It's a school for her -- er, </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> lot." She seemed pained to lump Hera in with this 'lot.'</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm... I'm a witch? Like, a cauldron stirring, wand-waving, broomstick riding witch?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Petunia actually laughed mirthlessly at that. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> like a cauldron stirring, wand-waving, broomstick riding witch. They have classes on all those things. Lily even had to buy a pointy black hat."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hera blinked at her then turned back to the letter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"This Dumbledore guy sounds like an arrogant prat with too many meaningless titles." She muttered. "And if they aren't meaningless, then he has no business running a school with all these other obligations."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Petunia gave her an odd look when she said that, but didn't comment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Miss Potter,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Term begins on September first. We await your owl by no later than July 31.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yours Sincerely,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Minerva McGonagall</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Deputy Headmistress</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She frowned and turned to the second sheet of parchment, but it only had a list of supplies.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That's it?" Hera exclaimed. "No explanation, no real instructions? What does it mean they await my 'owl?'" She shook her head. "What kind of school is this?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well," Petunia said uncomfortably. "When Lily was accepted someone came to explain it all to us. They told us what everything meant, where to get supplies, stuff like that. I think that McGonagall woman was the one who came, actually."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Maybe they assume you would tell me everything?" Hera muttered uncertainly. "Perhaps I should ask for clarification. If I can figure out how to respond, that is."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You use an owl. They tie letters to owls."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shook her head incredulously. This was all ridiculous. Wizards seemed like very backwards people. Still, though... She could learn </span>
  <em>
    <span>magic</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She could actually go to a school of magic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If only it was a competent school.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Is this the only such institution?" She asked. "Because I'm not sure that I trust this Dumbledore person if this is how he does things. Or, maybe he doesn't know I'm living with non-magical people."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She jumped when her aunt burst out laughing. Well, great. The wizards broke Petunia. No wonder the woman didn't like them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Doesn't know where you are?" She snorted once she had calmed down a bit. Petunia did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> snort. Hera subtly leaned just a bit further away. "That barmy old goat is the one who left you on our doorstep with nothing but a letter! Your parents trusted him, and ended up murdered!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"My parents were murdered?! You said they died in a car crash!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That would have been preferable! My little sister ran off to this school and got blown up for all her trouble. Magic corrupted her, changed her. She hated your father, he was a terrible person who thought it fun to nearly kill people. Lily despised him one moment, and then the next thing I know they’re married. All the while an evil wizard who no one will even say the </span>
  <em>
    <span>name</span>
  </em>
  <span> of is running around killing people, and then he kills </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span> and leaves you alive." Petunia seemed to realize she was ranting and her jaw clicked shut. She closed her eyes and took several calming breaths.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hera looked between the letter and the recently hysterical woman. "Why... Why didn't you tell me?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Magic brings nothing but evil, Hera. I won't let it corrupt my family anymore."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hera wondered vaguely if she was included in that family, but pushed it away. She knew she wasn't. After all, </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the threat. She was the unnatural one, intruding on this perfect little home.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was a symbol for evil that had already destroyed her aunt's life once. No wonder she was shoved into a cupboard.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Hera refused to feel guilty for something she couldn't control. She would not just accept this woman's behavior because she felt bad for her!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hera made up her mind then and there, turning to Petunia with determination burning in her eyes. "I'm going. To this Hogwarts place. But only so I can figure out what happened to my mother. I will unravel who Dumbledore </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>is, and then I will show </span>
  <em>
    <span>everyone</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I will take their world apart and rebuild it brick by brick if that's what it takes. But somehow, someway, I'll make sure my mother didn't die in vain."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Petunia looked at her niece like she had never seen the girl before. And maybe she hadn't. At that moment she sounded so very </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lily</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Lily before she changed. That fiery determination and stubborn will to make everything right.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Hera wasn't exactly like her mother. She was cunning and patient. She knew how to work the people around her and to see their true intentions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was Lily, but just different enough that maybe... Maybe this time, things would go the way they were supposed to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Hera had already turned back to the pages, going over the supply list with furrowed brows.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>UNIFORM</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>First year students will require:</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><ul>
<li><em><span>Three sets of plain work robes (black)</span></em></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><span>One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear</span></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><span>One set of protective work gloves (dragonhide or similar)</span></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><span>One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)</span></li>
</ul><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>COURSE BOOKS</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>All students should have a copy of each of the following:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) </span>
  <em>
    <span>by Miranda Goshawk</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A History of Magic </span>
  <em>
    <span>by Bathilda Bagshot</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Magical Theory </span>
  <em>
    <span>by Adalbert Waffling</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration </span>
  <em>
    <span>by Emeric Switch</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi </span>
  <em>
    <span>by Phyllida Spore</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Magical Draughts and Potions</span>
  <em>
    <span> by Arsenius Jigger</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them </span>
  <em>
    <span>by Newt Scamander</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self Protection </span>
  <em>
    <span>by Quentin Trimble</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>OTHER EQUIPMENT</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><ul>
<li><em><span>1 Wand</span></em></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><span>1 Cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)</span></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><span>1 Set of glass or crystal phials</span></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><span>1 Telescope</span></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><span>1 Set of brass scaled</span></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><span>Students may also bring an Owl OR a Cat OR a Toad</span></li>
</ul><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hera sighed in contemplation. The books looked interesting, to be sure, but there was no mention of maths or writing among them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You weren't kidding about the hat." She muttered after a moment. Honestly, the strange attire didn't even bother her too much. It wasn't like she had ever really gotten a say in what she wore, after all. "And your parents just let my mother go to this school?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Petunia sneered. "Of course they did. They were </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>proud, to have a witch in the family. Didn't see anything wrong with her coming home each summer with more nonsense every year. They </span>
  <em>
    <span>adored </span>
  </em>
  <span>her abilities. At least they weren't stupid enough to approve of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Potter</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and they loved hearing all about her freakishness." The woman turned to give her niece a steely look. "If you go to that </span>
  <em>
    <span>place</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you are not to bring any of it into our home. You will not speak of it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Do you understand</span>
  </em>
  <span>?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes, Aunt Petunia." Hera responded instantly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a long moment, Petunia searched the girl's face with pursed lips. Then, finally, she gave an imperceptible tilt of her head. "You better respond." She said curtly. "Less they send more."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hera nodded. She would do this. It was her only chance to truly learn about her mother. Lily had died, and that had to </span>
  <em>
    <span>mean </span>
  </em>
  <span>something.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She would make sure of it.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Emerald Chest</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here's chapter four! I am never quite sure how to write Snape, but he's fun to do all the same. I have some papers and exams coming up, so it might be a bit before the next chapter. Not to worry, though, I'll be back before you know it! Thanks for reading. Comment, questions, and criticism are welcomed.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Professor McGonagall honestly wasn't sure what to make of the letter in her hand. She was stuck somewhere between crying and laughing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Deputy Headmistress McGonagall,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I was quite surprised to receive the acceptance letter from your school, especially since I never applied. I don't know how I could have, seeing I didn't know about magic, let alone that there were schools for it. Though my aunt said my mother didn't apply either, so I suppose it must just be how things work.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But I suppose I don't really know anything about your world. Hopefully once I finish writing this I can figure out how I'm supposed to find an owl to deliver it. If you're reading this, then at least I was successful.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As for my acceptance... Well, I don't really know. My aunt says that I probably don't have a choice on whether I attend. But before I formally agree to this, I would at least like to know what I am getting myself into. For example, what is tuition? I promise my uncle will not be paying a pound for it. But if you have a scholarship program, perhaps I could get something merit-based? Then again, I don't really know anything about magic, so...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, another thing. What qualifications will I get if I attend? I am hoping to go to university and study maths, but that will be difficult if I only graduate from a secret magic school. I don't think saying bippity-boppity-boo will get me accepted into any credible program. At least, not legitimately.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And, assuming I do come to your school, what can I expect to find? How are the meals? Do you have a fully stocked infirmary, with modern equipment, or only herbs and potions? What would my schedule look like? Are there honors courses? How many people to a dorm? How many students are there? Do you have modern plumbing?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It also seems you have forgotten to tell me how to get to your establishment.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>These are really things you should address in your acceptance letter. And perhaps where I can get supplies? I can get a trunk, and I might even be able to find a cauldron if I look hard enough, but a wand might be a bit out of my reach.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hopefully you can answer some of my concerns. I am sure this was all just an oversight, as I can’t imagine that anyone reasonable would expect me to know how to go about acquiring dragon-hide gloves. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sincerely,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hera Lily Evans</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>P.S. Why does my letter say 'Herakles Lyra Potter?' I can understand the Potter, since I only decided to go by 'Evans' about five minutes ago (due to evidence that my father may have, in fact, been a prat), but Herakles Lyra? Maybe you should check your records. I think I know my name.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>P.P.S. My aunt says you might be able to ask the barmy old goat (her words, not mine) why he left a baby on a doorstep in November. I am sure that Supreme Mugwump is a very prestigious title, but I am concerned he may be going a tad senile. Unless he has always been like this, in which case I would appreciate it if you could point me towards the ignoramus who put him in charge of a school.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>P.P.P.S. I don't suppose you would know of a 'Severus Snape?' I believe he attended the school at the same time as my mom. I think they might have known each other? My aunt says he's a ‘creepy freak’ but she calls me that too, so I'm not completely convinced. If you have a way of getting in touch with him, would you mind asking why my mother married my father? He sounds like a git. I suppose I can forgive his apparent lack of self-control when it came to almost killing my uncle as a prank, as very few are capable of such self-mastery, but doing it at his wedding in front of a bunch of non-magical people seems not just overly cruel but also highly idiotic for someone who comes from a world which seems to put so much importance on staying secret that I wasn’t even informed that my parents were murdered, let alone by a magical terrorist.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The girl was even more sarcastic than Lily. And rather passive-aggressive, too. There were quite a few troubling things in the letter but it was difficult to get past the dry tone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was undeniable: Herakles Potter reminded her of Severus Snape. And she even asked about him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, Minerva supposed she owed the girl that much. It really was the least she could do. So, with her usual air of confidence despite the growing gnaw of guilt in her gut, the Transfiguration Professor promptly marched out of her office and straight down to the dungeons.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She didn't come down here too often but could navigate anywhere in the castle with her eyes closed. She moved without much thought towards her co-worker's office, while she mused over what she had learned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For one thing, Herakles went by Hera. That was reasonable enough, but she didn't seem to know her actual name in the first place. It sounded like she had never been told about magic, but her aunt had at least confirmed a few things. Why not her name, at the very least?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wasn't even sure why Hera hadn't been treated like a muggle-born in the first place, with a teacher actually coming by to explain things. Even if Lily's sister </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>been honest about magic, she couldn't be expected to know everything. There were some things only a wizard could answer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She quickly found herself at the door to the Potion Master's office and rapped sharply on it twice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's open." A dark voice drawled from within.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She opened the door to find Snape at his desk, reviewing old potion recipes and taking notes. It was something he did quite often.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He gave her an unenthusiastic look. "Can I help you, Minerva?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sighed and sat down in an armchair, putting the cauldron filled with books on the ground so she could take a seat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh yes, by all means, make yourself at home." He muttered sarcastically.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I received a rather... interesting... Reply letter from one of our new students. I'm not quite sure what to make of it. Perhaps you would have better luck?" She held out the letter in question. When he only raised an eyebrow in response, she waved the paper a little. "Just read it, Severus. It won't kill you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He snorted but took it. Well, at least the handwriting was surprisingly legible for an eleven-year-old. After the first couple of paragraphs he glanced up. "They sound like they are muggle raised. Shouldn't someone have met with the student?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His coworker just gestured for him to read on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a couple of minutes his lip just barely twitched in amusement at the sardonic tone the child took. It was almost impressive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then he reached the signature. He blinked hard before reading the entire thing again, seeing it in a whole new light. It did sound almost like Lily, but a bit more cutting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He swallowed and moved on to the first postscript. "She doesn't know her name?" He said in surprise. And then, in slight bewilderment, added "And she suddenly decided to go by Evans because, within five minutes of writing this letter, she essentially disowned her own father?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>McGonagall nodded. "Hera Lily Evans... Not exactly what people will agree to call the Girl-Who-Lived."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Snape huffed. "Of course not. No one could accept their little hero being anything but Herakles Potter."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, just read on."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He rolled his eyes but complied. Soon his lip was again twitching upward. "Barmy old goat? I assume that would be the headmaster." Then his moment of mirth fell, and he frowned at the page. "Left her on a doorstep with a letter? Her aunt... Petunia? Oh, for Salazar's sake, has the man finally gone round the bend?! Left a baby on </span>
  <em>
    <span>Petunia's </span>
  </em>
  <span>doorstep with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>letter</span>
  </em>
  <span>?! I'm amazed she didn't just leave Pott</span>
  <em>
    <span>-- Evans</span>
  </em>
  <span> -- there."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The witch shifted uncomfortably. "Er, yes. I would actually like to talk to you about that. But I take it you haven't read the very last bit?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well excuse me for being distracted by a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fifteen-month-old baby </span>
  </em>
  <span>being left on a doorstep in </span>
  <em>
    <span>November</span>
  </em>
  <span>!" He snapped in an unusual amount of distress for someone who found tormenting children amusing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Just finish the letter!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Fine, but I'm not letting this go..." He froze and then read the final postscript out loud. "I don't suppose you would know of a </span>
  <em>
    <span>'Severus Snape?'</span>
  </em>
  <span> I believe he attended the school at the same time as my mom. I think they might have... known each other? My aunt says he's a... creepy freak... but she calls me that too,... so I'm not convinced. If you have a way of getting in touch with him, would you mind asking why she married my... father?... He </span>
  <em>
    <span>sounds like a git</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I think you and Hera might get along quite well." McGonagall said shortly. "I fear to think what she would make of Sirius Black -- even before what he did."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Snape scowled at nothing in particular. It was generally his default reaction to things until he could figure what he actually felt at the moment. The letter was unexpected, to say the least. And try as he might he simply could not reconcile the author with James Potter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No, Hera was certainly not James Potter. Oh, perhaps the edge of her wit came from him, but none of that boisterous attitude Snape loathed so much.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He eventually decided on an emotion to portray and smirked at the witch. "The girl is a Slytherin, Minerva. No chance she ends up in your den."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The woman gave him an indignant look. "Insulting the school and headmaster is too bold to be anything but Gryffindor. When it comes down to it I’m sure she will be in the house of her parents." She shook her head. "Perhaps we should bring this to the headmaster."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Snape's smirk grew. It was not a look he donned often, but when he did people with any hint of self-preservation ran. "No. No, don't tell him anything. I don't want him to suspect a thing. The 'barmy old goat' can see how wrong he was for himself when his precious Savior of the Light is a snake through and through."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I suppose that could be... Amusing." She relented. "Though I still believe she will be a lion, just not quite the way he may expect. Very well. Albus hears nothing. But someone still has to go talk to the girl, and bring her to Diagon Alley."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'll do it."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I said I'll do it. I'll take the girl to the Alley and explain what I can to her."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes, but... Why?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He gave her an unimpressed look. "No need to sound so surprised. It is my </span>
  <em>
    <span>job</span>
  </em>
  <span> after all. Helping the... Children."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You hate children."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Not all of them. Just most. I will take her on July 31. I have the day off. No need for Albus to wonder where I've gone. I need to pick up some stuff from the Apothecary anyway." He reasoned smoothly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>McGonagall rolled her eyes. "Oh, of course."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nodded stiffly and gestured to the door. "I believe you have a letter to send young Miss Evans?"</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Hera Evans,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Allow me to apologize for the rather unhelpful letter of acceptance. It is standard practice for a professor to personally visit every muggle (non-magical) born and raised child. I am not sure how you were overlooked in this.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A colleague of mine is able to see you on Wednesday, July 31. He should be there at ten in the morning and will be able to explain more in-depth and take you shopping for supplies.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>However, I will try to answer a couple of more pressing questions here. The others, I am afraid, will have to wait for Wednesday.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>First of all, while attendance to Hogwarts isn't strictly mandatory, a magical education is. For muggle-born and/or raised children, we are generally the only option. Some wizarding families opt for homeschool or send their children to study abroad.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As for tuition, you need not worry. It is common practice for wizarding parents to set aside the appropriate amount shortly after their child's birth. Your parents did this, and the amount is automatically collected. Of course, they left more than just that behind. You have a trust vault at Gringotts, the wizarding bank, which should have more than enough to get your supplies and quite a few other things as well. This will likely be your first stop on Wednesday.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The other issue I feel is pertinent to address is that of qualifications. Graduation from Hogwarts is fully recognized in the magical world, but not muggle. However, you are not the first student to raise concerns about this. We have a self-study program in which you can take courses through mail, supplemented by a couple of summer classes. It is a lot of work but fully manageable and you should be able to graduate with any muggle qualifications you may receive from a traditional education.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hopefully, this helps answer some of the more stress-inducing concerns you may have.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Now, there is one more thing I should mention: your name. Legally, your name is indeed Herakles Lyra Potter. Most people should be fine referring to you as 'Hera,' but family names are considered very important in our world. Magic will recognize you as 'Potter' and not 'Evans.' For this and various other reasons, it is likely many will forgo your preference in favor of what they deem acceptable. But if you ask, any decent professor or student should respect your choice in at least day to day interactions. Your given name must be used, for example, at the sorting ceremony (which shall be explained by my colleague). You will be called upon as 'Potter, Herakles.'</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sincerely,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Minerva McGonagall</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Deputy Headmistress</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hera read back over the letter again. She had been a little taken aback when, while watering the garden, a large tawny owl swooped down and landed on the garden wall with a letter tied to its foot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had been odd enough to secure her own letter to the owl she found waiting outside just earlier that day, and she still was unsure how she felt about this whole method of communication. It was, at the very least, relatively swift -- she had sent off the last owl just over two hours ago. Magic probably had something to do with it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, she could think of worse ways to celebrate her birthday. Actually, this might just be her best birthday yet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Assuming she was allowed to go.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hera rather timidly brought the message to her aunt. Petunia looked as if she had swallowed a particularly nasty lemon but gave a curt nod.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That night, while curled up in the cupboard with a good book, her aunt knocked hesitantly on the door. "Hera?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She quickly bookmarked her page. "Yes, Aunt Petunia?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a long pause. "I -- I thought you might be able to use something here."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Curiously, Hera gently pushed open the little door. It was an odd sight; her aunt standing there uncertainly with a faded green trunk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her mother's trunk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I -- here." The woman said stiffly, and she shoved the heavy case towards her niece before stalking off to do something calming, like dusting the house for the third time that day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hera saw that a little, golden key had been placed in the lock and her breath hitched. After all this time, she would finally get to see into the mysterious case that had taunted her for so long. She was sort of scared to even open it. So many dreams had been wrapped up in this thing, what if the truth was disappointing? She had never expected to find Narnia hidden within, of course, but she had fantasized about something just as fantastic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With trembling hands, Hera lowered the trunk onto her cot and turned the lock. With some adjusting, she was able to get back in and close the door with just enough room to open the case. This moment felt personal; she wanted privacy even if it was in such a cramped space.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lone bulb above her cast ominous shadows on the green designs, making them look alive. Hera took a deep breath and opened the lid.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What she found was neither disappointing nor awe-inspiring. It was really just an ordinary sort of school trunk with just a hint of the abnormal. There were a couple of journals, a quill or two, a small photo album, some random accessories, and other assorted pieces of one girl's life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first thing she pulled out was a red and orange striped scarf. It was surprisingly soft and smelled vaguely of coconut. Hera smiled and draped it around her neck. She felt almost like her mother could somehow be giving her a warm hug through this simple bit of warmth. Not that she had ever longed for something like that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Next was a charm bracelet with a broken clasp. There were only a few charms on it, but all were gorgeous. There was a deep blue book, a witch's hat, a lily, and a little bronze key. She carefully set it aside on her shelf. She could probably put the charms on a different bracelet, or at least get a new clasp.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She pulled out the journals and photo album to look through later, and moved on to a patched and very worn stuffed tiger. She figured her mother had probably had it since she was very young. Hera had never really had any such thing and felt more than a little silly giving the striped cat a quick hug. Still, it felt special, so she put that, too, on the shelf.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She continued through the trunk in this manner. There were few other things of note besides a badge that read '</span>
  <em>
    <span>Head Girl</span>
  </em>
  <span>' and a small stack of letters which she put with the journals without reading through them. They would be good to save for when she was next trapped in here with little else to do.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was only when she closed the trunk again that she noticed the little switch above the lock. There were four positions it could take, and was currently set to the first one. She flicked it to the second, unsure if anything was supposed to happen. It didn't seem anything had, so Hera shrugged and opened the trunk again to see if the switch was perhaps connected to something on the other side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Except, when she opened it, the inside was completely different. The most noticeable change was that, like the TARDIS, it was suddenly bigger on the inside.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were two bookshelves going down almost two meters vertically, with handles at the top to pull them out. When she did so, the shelf widened and soon she was faced with more books than she had ever dared hope for.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Some, like </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Secret of Platform 13</span>
  </em>
  <span>, were familiar titles but most were not. The majority of them seemed to be textbooks of one kind or another. They had titles like </span>
  <em>
    <span>Advanced Runology, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them,</span>
  </em>
  <span> or </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Standard Book of Spells</span>
  </em>
  <span> (grades 1-7).</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a start, Hera pulled out her supply list and after some searching realized that she had every single one of the required books except </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self Protection</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She suspected that she would need to buy very few school books over the next several years.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Very much enthused, Hera tucked the shelves away and closed the trunk once again, only to switch it to setting three and reopen it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This compartment was also bigger on the inside, only it was a wardrobe instead of a library. It was mostly empty except for an old pair of buckled boots that wouldn't even fit Hera for at least a couple of years, and a black cape with a silver top that actually seemed just the right size.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The fourth and final compartment was perhaps the most curious of all. There was an empty spot for a cauldron, some crystal vials, a small telescope, and room to spare. Hopefully the vials and telescope would work for school -- those were two less things she had to buy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had taken almost an hour to go through everything, and she wasn't even being all that thorough.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hera decided that this was just as wonderful as Narnia after all.</span>
</p>
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